


Roses and Timber

by freethekitties



Category: Heartstopper (Webcomic)
Genre: F/F, One Shot, Regency Era, Short One Shot, hand kisses!!!!, tender wow, this is super short and very self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20454140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freethekitties/pseuds/freethekitties
Summary: Every winter, Darcy waits for Tara, like a hero waits for her princess.





	Roses and Timber

Every summer, Darcy craves for the day the leaves change their colour (from green to yellow), for the one cold day that tells her autumn is coming (from yellow to orange), for the one day she has to clean the entire estate with her sister and mother (from orange to red), for the day she and the other employees are staring out the window (from red to brown), for the day the carriage arrives, driving over dryed leaves on the way to the House.  
On this day, she is standing there, together with her family, greeting the noble family that stays here for winter, because the walls are thick and the warmth stays in and there is a fireplace in every single bedroom. The best one is in the living room, though, it is big and the head of a buck is hanging high above, and Darcy doesn't know whether the Lord hunted it down or one of his personal hunters, and he simply took the trophy. Her siblings and her sometimes light up the fireplace in early autumn, if the night is cold enough, and their parents don't scold them those nights, which is rare. Then they bask in the warmth of the fire, pretending to live here in this fancy estate. One of them is the servant, bringing water and - if some is left - a bit of dry bread.  
The best fireplace might be in the living room, but Darcy's favourite is the one in Tara's room. Especially since last winter.  
They stand in a row, greeting the family, staring at the ground. Only Darcy looks up ever so slightly when Tara walks past her, she does it every year, although you are not supposed to. But Tara is always the last one to walk past, and she has memorised how her steps sound, and she has never told anyone about Darcy looking up. Tara's eyes even caught onto her the past years, and Darcy always stares back, not able to avert her eyes. She sinks into her dark brown eyes, brown as the bark of the trees around them, warm as her fireplace. And every time Tara smiles the smile of a lady, small and almost shy as she walks past her behind her family.

And then, last year, Darcy was allowed to enter Tara's room, and her fireplace was the best because it smelt like roses, or perhaps it is just her room, or the young Lady herself. Tara had called for her, after dinner, and there she sat on her bed, wearing a thick nightgown against the cold outside, although the fireplace kept the room warm, a knit blanket around her shoulders, and Darcy lowered her gaze because it does not befit her to look at a lady in this state, with her hair down and wearing so little, she didn't even cover her calves properly. For a moment, they both stayed silent. It seemed to go on forever, and Darcy was not sure whether she wanted another eternity of staying with Tara in her room, just to breathe in her scent, or if she wanted to leave, since she couldn't even look at her without being flustered. She only helped her parents with simple taks, she was no personal maid, and women's work wasn't her cup of tea anyway. Her mother tried to teach her how to knit, sew, cook, but she always messed up. She was more useful when helping her father. Therefore she didn't know why Tara even bothered with her. Tara, a noblewoman with delicate fingers that surely could stitch, sitting with a straight back even on the bed at night. Tara, pretty like a little rose.  
"Thank you for coming," Tara started. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, but she didn't continue talking. It was quiet again, only the fireplace crackled, and Darcy's stmach twisted. The rules seemed so simple; Don't talk to Nobles if they don't tell you to speak up. But here in this room, the rules didn't seem right. Was she allowed to talk?  
"Uh. Anytime." Her words were slow and precarious and she only looked at Tara to make sure she didn't get mad. It didn't seem like it, and she had trouble looking away again; Tara's dark skin against the white nightgown, her hands folded on her lap, like a real Lady but not quite - her fingers were twitching nervously, and she tapped her feet on the rug, she was as nervous as Darcy.  
"Can... I do anything for you?"  
"No- i mean, yes! Not.. not really, maybe. I just wanted company." Tara met her gaze and Darcy's mouth went dry. She was reminded of the years she played outside with her siblings and scuffled with her brother whenever little Tara watched them, because even at the age of ten she wanted to impress the Lady. Or the time she climbed a tree to get the nicest, reddest apple for Tara when they were 13, and Darcy had grinned at her and for the first time, Tara had grinned back, all unladylike, and Darcy's heart beat faster because she had been so pretty. And it beat fast every time she thought abt it: Tara, holding the apple to her chest as if it was the most valuable thing she owned, how she held it to her lips and closed her eyes before carefully biting into it, and Darcy imagined she was out hunting, gathering food for Tara, or slaying a monster to protect her, or kissing her hand, and every time heat rose onto her cheeks but she wasn't ashamed because this feelinf was so... right. So good.  
"Oh! Of course, I can get someone if you want company. Just tell me the name and I'll go." She took a step back towards the door, but Tara shook her head quickly.  
"No, no, I don't want to see my... family. Or anyone else. I wanted to see you." Her eyes widened a little and she continued quickly, "But... I'm sure you're tired, right? You've got work tomorrow, I saw you working hard today! I-I'm sorry, I didn't want to keep you awake, I just..."  
Darcy was staring at her the whole time and interrupted her - probably the most indecent thing she could do, but it seemed right at the moment: "No! I'm not tired. I can stay. I'd like to stay."  
And with that, Darcy stayed, sitting in front of the fire place, and Tara left her comfortable bed to sit next to her on the floor, holding onto her blanket. And they talked. Shy, awkward, because neither of them had ever really talked to someone outside their class, not like that. Tara, dear God, she was so incredibly smart, eloquent, although she seemed overwhelmed at first. Not too long into the converation she started to get comfortable, began talking fast and almost excited, excited to talk to someone. Or maybe even excited to talk to Darcy. The thought took her breath away.

This winter they often sat in front of the fireplace, almost every night, and Tara told her stories from the countless books in her room, or she talked about the city she stayed every summer, because Darcy has never been to a big city. It seemed so alive, so busy. No matter what Tara talked about, Darcy took up every word, loved listening to her for hours.  
"But... this. This is my home. We stay in the city for a long time, but in reality, this is the place I like," Tara said, not looking at her, and Darcy swallowed, "Why?"  
Instead of a reply Tara just smiled and told her about her sister, who had found a husband last year, and her brother, who was currently fighting for their country, and Darcy didn't say anything else but she couldn't contain a grin, because she knew exactly why Tara liked it here.

This winter was shorter than than all the others, at least it felt like it. The closer they got to spring the longer Tara and Darcy sat in front of the fireplace. One especially cold night Tara brought her wooly blanket around the two of them, and despite them not even touching, Darcy shuddered. The mere thought ofTara maybe moving closer, her arm against hers, kept her awake that night, and the nights after. But even as the nights got warmer and shorter and the snow started melting, they kept sharing a blanket.  
Sometimes, they touched, only for a second, and Darcy would always recoil, moving her hand, arm, leg, whatever, away, but Tara never said anything, never moved. So Darcy decided to keep her arm against hers a little longer every time it happened, and at some point it was no accident anymore, and her pinky rested on Tara's and then their fingers interwined slowly as she read aloud. Darcy smiled and imagined her as the prince saving his princess, with curly hair falling over her shoulders, in nothing but a nightgown, and there they sat for hours until Tara fell asleep and Darcy had to wake her up, convincing her to go to bed. Then she had to leave, go back to their little hut not far away from the House, but every time she left she prayed Tara would come after her and tell her to stay.

Spring came, and the family got ready to leave. It was their last night together, and Tara was leaning against her, but no one said a word. Tara didn't read, not even for herself. Something heavy was hanging in limbo, and Darcy was staring at the untouched firewood and she already missed her lady.  
"Not too long until we can read together again," Darcy whispered, and Tara nodded, lips pressed together.  
"Your friends are in the city. I bet it will be nice to see them again."  
"You are my friend!" Tara replied, sulking like a child.  
"Mh. You're my friend too. The best I've ever had."  
"Yes..." Tara inched away from her, and she was already missing her warmth. Darcy looked up to her, studying her pretty face, how her curls framed her face, how she looked at her.  
"Darcy, I don't want to go." She still hadn't gotten used to Tara saying her name. It sounded so sophisticated out of her mouth, like everything she said. It didn't matter what she said, she simply loved hearing her voice.  
"I don't want you to go either." Darcy's hand darted upwards but stayed in the air between them. "I will miss you. But... it won't be long. You're back soon. Every year, I wait for the leaves to change colours." Finally, she rested her hand on Tara's. "And as soon as I spot the first yellow leaf, I start counting the days. Because then I know you'll be there soon. We'll just wait for this day, okay?"  
Tara stared at her, her chest moving up and down quickly. After a few moments of thinking, she nodded.  
"It'll be like your tales. The hero waiting for her princess, right?" No matter how long. Like in her tales, she held onto her hand and moved it to her lips. She barely touched Tara's soft skin as she breathed the tiniest kiss on each of her fingers, and when she looked into her face again she saw the same grin she had seen when they had both been 13, four years ago, and she smiled back at her.

And now she is standing there, waiting for the family to enter the estate, and she looks up, meeting Tara's eyes, and they smile, like last winter, and now they are both old enough to go their own way and they know it, they know. And Darcy can't wait to kiss her hand again, every knuckle, up her arm, her neck, she can't wait to kiss her lips and do it again, and again, and again, breathe in her scent, roses and timber. They stare at each other until Tara is inside and Darcy can't wait for tonight.


End file.
